Students are coming! Students are coming!

Registration began Wednesday, which meant that the students are once again on campus.  There has been a fairly steady stream of students stopping by the office (they are required to check-in with the office when they come to register), and the sound of  “Welcome back!  Happy new year!” has been a perpetual chorus.  While it meant that precious little got done, it was great to see my students again. 

I was talking with one of my students, Francis, about his time “in the field” while he was on the long holiday.  His diocese has been embroiled in some controversies the last few years.  He updated me on what’s going on, and I was struck by how evenly he told the story.  The situation there is horribly divisive, and his maturity and integrity shined brightly.  I know of three students from that diocese, all young men in their mid- to late-twenties, and each of them has the same heart – the heart to serve the Lord in righteousness.  They have a hard road of healing the diocese ahead, but if this is the kind of clergy the Lord is bringing up, hallelujah!

Thursday night I went to the dining hall to recruit "volunteers" for the first week of chapel.  I exchanged the mandatory “Welcome back!  Happy new year!” choruses, and when I explained what brought me to the dining, quickly got the team together. 

Francis had asked me why I was there, and I pointed out that the best place to find the theologians is in the dining hall; they’re always the first for meals and tea.  It’s ridiculously true, and has been for years.  I pointed to where the theology students were sitting, on both sides of the center aisle, and commented that theology is always camped on the banks of the River Jordan.  That got a good laugh out of the table, because they know it’s true, but Francis insisted that I was wrong.

I went to various tables greeting the students, and came back to Francis to be sure that I didn’t start the new year on an offense, and that he knew I was kidding.  He just smiled and said, “when you’re talking to a mother you love, you can have some funs.”  My first thought was that he was a turkey, since I didn’t realize he was kidding, but then I really heard what he said – I’m a mother to them.

They’ve adopted this white woman as one of their mothers – someone they honor, respect, and value.  I am humbled and blessed beyond words.